Hathol 'Warth
by Silabrithil
Summary: Raunion returns to Mirkwood after long years in the east to be greeted by someone he had hoped never to meet again.
1. Default Chapter

**Hathol 'Warth** _by Silabrithil

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All that you do not recognize is mine, the rest (sigh) belongs to the genious of Proff Tolkien._

_(Yay, I finally just discovered the edit button!) (Groan, now I have to fix everything...)_

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Ionvain dodged the arrow shaft aimed at his head and twisted his body to face his attacker.   
His heart sunk into the soles of his feet when he saw five of the Duke's personal guard, all with their bows drawn and aimed at his heart. The leader of the guards stepped forwards and Ionvain's heart seemed to drop out of existance and his stomach jumped into his mouth.   
It was Raunion.   
  
"You are trespassing on our Lord's lands, filth," the dark eyed captain spat at the unmoving elf before him.   
  
Ionvain stood tall and lifted his head high, this was a ruse, of course, they did not care if this were Greenwood land or not, they were there to kill him, but he played the unsuspecting victem.   
  
"Child, you are confused, for these are the lands of our King. We are still in Greenwood the Great, are we not?" Such a proud remark sparked a fire in the dark captain's eyes and he moved forewards, not lowering his bow an inch, until the tip was touching Ionvain's chest.   
  
"Insolent, ignorant and idiotic you are my dear Ionvain Henvainion. The King is dead and the prince is lost in the wilds or dead on the battlefield, which means that the next in line to the throne is our Lord."   
  
Ionvain gave the imposing elf a withering look and calmly pushed the arrow away from him, forcing himself to grin widely as he replied scathingly, "Several of the royal family must have had 'accidents' since I left because, last I remember, King Oropher had three brothers and they each had several sons. I am begining to think that being accident prone is something passed down from father to son."   
  
Raunion sneered and gave the now surrounded elf a shove into the waiting arms of two of the Duke's guardsmen who pulled his arms painfully behind his back and stood on his feet so he couldn't escape. The captive elf struggled to little avail as he was disarmed and bound to a convientiently placed tree none to gently.   
  
Raunion stood infront of Ionvain, idly fingering an intericately crafted dagger, his eyes full of laughter as the guardsmen took out some of their anger on their bound and helpless captive, punching him in the gut and face until he couldn't catch his breath and there was blood streaming down his face due to a broken nose.   
  
"Now, Ionvain, would you like to tell us what you were doing in our Lord's lands without permission? I'm sure we can deal with this matter here and now, but if you wish, I'm sure my Lord would greatly enjoy to extend an audience to hear your plea."   
  
This was said in jest, for Ionvain knew that for him to go before the Duke was a sure way to meet a most slow and painful death. Raunion smiled innocently at the bloodied captive before him and cocked an eyebrow questioningly.   
  
"Do you not wish to go before the Duke Saercaeron?"   
  
Ionvain bared his teeth and made a low growling noise in his throat.   
  
"I care not what you do to me, rebel, you are only bringing down the curse of the Noldor upon our people. You will loose the way to the west and bring darkness down upon all of Arda."   
  
Raunion chortled evily, "you always had the flare for the dramatic, Ionvain, you should have been a clown rather than a soldier. You never were worth anything as a warrior, anyways."   
  
The last barb dug deep into Ionvain and he struggled pointlessly against the strong elven ropes that held him securely to the tree. Raunion smiled then smashed his bare fist into Ionvain's face and kneed him hard in the gut. Ionvain would have doubled over in pain had he not been bound and moaned loudly as his body screamed with pain. There was a gash opened on his forehead and blood was running in his eyes so he did not see Raunion draw the dagger from his belt and advance, he did not see the other guardsmen turn and disappear into the dark forest.   
  
He knew none of this until he felt the cold metal blade pressed against his throat.   
He looked up at the captain, pain-filled eyes into hate-filled ones, and breathed, "Great Eru! Raunion, you would kill your own brother?"   
  
Raunion grimanced and clenched his jaw, "you are no brother of mine."   
But the blade in his hand quivvered and he felt the hair raising on the back of his neck.   
Ionvain looked desperately into his brother's eyes, pleading, and whispered, "The west will be shut to you."   
  
With a burst of sudden rage Raunion plunged the dagger not into his brother's throat but into his shoulder, pinning him to the tree. The elf cried out in alarm and pain as the blade passed through his body, grating past bones and into the tree he was tied to. A ragged gasp escaped him as he tried to move and pain lanced through his entire upperbody and left arm.   
  
Raunion's hands shook as he drew another dagger, thrusting it into his brother's right shoulder and using the long knife taken from Ionvain and driving it through one foot and into the ground. Ionvain no longer made any sound of pain other than laboured breathing and the occasional gasp as his body shifted causing more damage to his wounds, and more pain to his spinning mind.   
  
Once Raunion was finnished he stepped away and dropped down on one knee, looking up into his brother's glazed over and tear filled eyes. _'Lothron le thinna alag, muindor-nin,' _he whispered into those large grey eyes, then rose quickly and left the small clearing.  
In his ears rang the sounds of his brother's ragged gasps and the trees crying out at the pain of one of their friends.   
May you fade quickly, my brother   
  
He came upon his men who had stood waiting for him not far away. They made no eye contact but he knew that they had no qualms with their captain killing his own brother, his younger brother... If he could have Raunion would have ran back to the clearing and pulled his brother down, begging foregiveness of him, but he knew that his men would kill him with little thought.  
  
'That is how it is now, that is how it will be once the Duke is made King,' Raunion thought heavily, 'and none will be left or able to go into the west. I have just killed my brother as the Duke killed his uncles. I have commited kinslaying and am now wicked and my immortality foresaken like the treacherous Noldor.' He spoke not but gestured his men to follow and they made their way back to the palace of Greenwood.   
  
That night, after the Duke awarded him with a beautiful sword of gold and mithril with a red stone set in the hilt for 'services' to his lordship, Rounion fell onto his bed holding his new blade in his arms and cried out _'Gohena i eglath! Im gerin gweriad en muindor an sen hathol!'   
_Forgive the foresaken! I have betrayed my brother for this blade!   
  
Without changing or putting away his sword Raunion fell into a terrible dream where he tried to sail to the Undying Lands but Manwe, dressed in a robe stained with blood in the same spots where Ionvain had bled, declared him a kinslayer and fith under the shoe of an orc. The seas parted and the ground moved and swallowed him whole, taking him down into the heart of Arda and into the same flames that comsumed Mahaedros.   
  
He awoke crying out his brothers name and lay in bed, cold and drenched with sweat, rocking himself back and forth whispering an apology. Before the first light of the morn he took what few belongings he needed and disappeared into the silent woods and headed east.

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_Thanks for your reviews!_

_Toodles, Silabrithil_


	2. Limmon and the Spider's web

Chapter One: Limmon and the Spider's Web

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"Raunion, ho! What brings you back to this neck of the woods?"  
  
Raunion reigned in his mount and smiled at the newly materialized elf standing on the woodland path.  
  
"I have decided to return home, mellon, after many years of wandering in the east. I heard that the King's son is comming of age soon so I wanted to be here for the ceremonies."  
  
Limmon, for that is the name of the sentinel, grinned jestingly at the elder elf and nodded in ammusement, "sure, sure. Ceremonies you say but you know that the best wines are saved for the day when the prince becomes heir apparant. But I say, the eastern wines are the best so have you not had your thirst quenched?"  
  
Raunion laughed and shook a finger at the young and merry elf, "watch yourself, Limmon, watch yourself!"  
  
"Oh, I suppose," Limmon mocked a straight face and formal bow, "that I should watch my tounge infront of elders. I would not want to upset you, Mi'lord."  
  
Raunion snorted.  
  
"Truely, my young friend, you should watch yourself, you know not all that is around you and might miss someone sneaking up from behind," Raunion grinned as a shadow parted itself from the dinge of the forest and crept up behind the hopelessly giggling sentinel.  
  
"GOTCHA!"  
  
Limmon's knees were taken out as a small ball of grey cloaks and blonde hair wrestled the young elf and pinned him down onto the dusty road.  
  
"Melbenion! Nay! Get off of me you scurvy little orc!" The dusty and somewhat deflated Limmon called out,  
  
"Eru grant me strength, I have not the knees for this!"  
  
Little Melbenion, a sweet elfling that could only one yenni of age, was jumped off his captive, delighted in his victory.  
  
"_Gerich faer vara_, Limmon!"  
  
Limmon rose, dusting himself off and scowling at the youngster, _"Lasto lalaith nín!"  
  
_Raunion grinned at the quite proud child and rather miffed guard. _"Mae carnen, pen neth, mae carnen."  
  
_"_Oh! Suilad, hir nin. Melbenion i eneth nin_." The child piped nervously, adding, "_Man eneth lin?"  
  
_"_Gîl síla erin lû e-govaded vín, Melbenion_." Said Raunion, the little one smiling proudly for being adressed with such a formal greeting, "_Raunion i eneth nin."  
  
_"Ai! You are Raunion? That means that you are my uncle!  
  
"Does it now?" Ionvain smiled, but creased his brow. 'How could I be his uncle? Ionvain had no wife and fathered no children, and my sister passed long ago into the west.'  
  
The little one made no notice of Raunion's disbelief as he pestered Limmon, but the Mirkwood soldier did and wondered at it.  
  
'Did you not know, my lord, that your brother fathered two sons?" Here Limmon nodded at Melbenion.  
  
"My brother? As in my brother Ionvain?"  
  
Limmon nodded and Raunion felt sick, scared, and increadolus all at the same time as Melbenion launched into a discription of his brother and mother.  
  
"Oh, Melbenion! Run along and tell your mother that I come, I must speak to Limmon for a moment."  
  
The little one nodded and darted off into the forest as Limmon shouted after him, "Avo visto!"  
  
Once the child had disapeared from both elves' sight Raunion jumped off his horse, ran to Limmon and pushed him against a tree. "Ionvain? Is this a jest? He lives?"  
  
Limmon looked startled, "what mean you, my lord?"  
  
"I mean," Raunion raged at the uncomfortable elf infront of him, "my brother died years ago before Thranduil was crowned! He was killed by traitors more than five thousand years ago! What say you of that?"  
  
"Aye, my lord, your brother did die at the hands of traitors, but it is only one hundred fallings of snow past, Limmon stammered, "Why you thought him dead so long ago?"  
  
Raunion bit his lip and backed away from the younger elf. "I had seen him dead among the trees when this forest was still the Greenwood, or at least I thought I had. How is this possible?"  
  
Limmon crouched down and gestured to Raunion to follow in suit.  
  
"I will begin with what I know, that in the years of the reign of the Duke and the return of Thranduil your brother and yourself went missing. This was after you were made general and your brother's return to Greenwood after the battles in the south. Ionvain disapeared and you were in a state of grief at his loss; you were promoted in hopes that you would have new duties to keep you from fading, but so great was your pain that one night you burried your gilted blade into the Duke's desk and disappeared - looking for your missing brother. That is how the tale is told by those that have heard it, my lord."  
  
Raunion bowed his head and breathed deeply.  
  
"He did not say where he had gone or anything of that matter?"  
  
Limmon shook his head and placed his hand comfortingly on Raunion's shoulder, "He said only that he had gone looking and found that what he searched for had always been where he had left it, but he mourned for you deeply. We all thought you dead, for he had said once, and we just assumed that in his wanderings he had learned of your fate, that his brother was dead and lost. I do not even think he told his beloved Celairiel about his wanderings."  
  
Raunion felt a wave of relief was over him and he allowed his muscles to relax. 'So he did not die from my trechery! Thank the Valar! _Losto mae, gwanur._'  
  
Limmon's eyes went glassy with tears as he told Raunion of Ionvain's return, marrige, life, and death. A great pressure was on Raunion's heart as he heard the tale, and a lump grew in his throat.  
  
_"Ai, losto... losto Ionvain, losto mae," _he cried when Limmon told him that his brothers last words were 'where is my brother? Wherefore has he gone?' and he broke down into tears.  
  
Limmon comforted the weeping elf, wraping and arm around his shoulders, pressing his head against Raunion's and hushing.  
  
Raunion noticed none of this, his mind was reeling with the news, the anguish, and with guilt - guilt of his betrayal, guilt at being away when his brother returned and guilt of not being there to protect his little brother again. Guilt at not being able to redeem himself to his brother, to beg forgiveness, to tell him how he had been tormented all those long years in the east among dark elves and Rhunlings by his guilt, how he had only been saved from fading by an unexpected desire for the trees of Greenwood and the sea.  
  
Raunion looked down at his wrists, and pushed up his sleves, revealing the scars from where he had tried to kill himself. Numerous times.  
  
Limmon saw these scars and immediatley understood what had happened - immortals do not scar by any weapon except their own if they turn it upon themselves.  
  
'Sweet Eru! In his grief he turned against himself,' Limmon felt a wave of sympathy directed towards the still weeping elf and forced himself to look away from Raunion's shame.  
  
"Dear Raunion, I was friends with your brother since we both were mere elflings, we confided in one another and laughed together. I extend that friendship out to my parted friend's elder brother. Will you take it?"  
  
Raunion heard the words but they were so unbelieveable that all he could do was nod once then bury his face into his hands and sobb again.  
  
Limmon felt a little better but all this crying was making him uncomfortable and he decided to change topics, to distract his grieving friend.  
  
"_Mas bennich, Raunion?"  
  
_The tearstained face peeked through his wet hands, "_Man?"  
  
"Mas athradannech? _Rhun? Gondor?"  
  
Raunion paused before answering, "I went all through the east, to the eastern sea and then travelled along it into the deep south where the two Istari vannished. Then I made my way north-west where I found many strange things - men and darklings living together and a few odd dwarves mixed in. They had cities, not grand like ours, very few trees, and their homes were like mines and dug into hills.  
  
"Then I went as far east as possible without coming to the sea and mad my way north. I dwelt for awhile in the far north where the snow never melts and only burly and dark eyed men live in houses made of ice and snow. Then I dwelt in the grey mountains before returning to the east some long time ago. And a few months ago I decided to either return home or, if I couldn't find a home here anymore, try to cross the sea."  
  
"Ah, I see. Tell me a tale of your travels in the far east and south, did you meet any of the grey people there?"  
  
Raunion shook his head, "Nay, I think I was the first Silvan in some of those places, so did they stare and wonder at me. I encountered one darkling who had lived once in the Grey mountains and he told me where his deserted hall is hidden..."  
  
Both elves stopped all motion and sat in complete silence, off to their right a bush rustled and to their left a scurrying sound.  
  
Raunion and Limmon lept up, Raunion drawing his sword and spinning to the left, Limmon drawing his bow and whipping an arrow into place with lightning speed. The two stood back to back and tense as their watchers now made no attempt to conceal their movements as three giant spiders dropped down from the trees and two sprang out from the bushes at them.  
  
"_Hain dago!" _Limmon shouted, rapidly firing arrow after arrow at the quickly advancing spawn of Ungoliant.  
  
Raunion rushed at one spider that had dropped down near him. It screeched and flung itself upon him, pinning him down and raising its pincers to take a chunk out of his neck but it had forgotten the bright sword of the elf beneath it, but that was only until it felt it jabbed foreward into its soft belly and torn out to the side. It screeched again as Raunion pushed it off and brought his blade down on its head and tossed the carcas aside.  
  
As another spider made its advance at him, Raunion looked over to see how Limmon was faring and saw that he had now switched from his long bow to a pair of long knives and was kicking some spider butt.  
  
Raunion turned back to his own threat and grunted as his moment of inattention allowed the spider to get close enough to spit at him.  
  
He ducked the stuff and behind him he could hear a sizzling from where the venomnous mucus had landed. The spider reared back and swiped at him with four razor sharp legs and snapped its pincers threateningly.  
  
Raunion had to dodge the legs that threatened to slice him clean in half and rolled away as it landed once more on all legs and knocked him over with its large body.  
  
He rolled then lept quickly up and, without hesitation, threw his sword at the charging spider. The sword killed the vile thing easily as the blade passed into its head.  
  
Raunion pulled now his own long knives to kill anymore of the ambushing creatures but saw them retreating from he and Limmon, who had a fair ammount of spider carcasses piled in a circle around him.  
  
"Mae carnen, mellon! You make me look bad only dispatching two while you kill," Raunion quickly counted the ugly black spider bodies, "seven of the bloody things! Mien Gott, when did you learn to weild those long knives? I did not know that they were back in style else I would have returned sooner."  
  
Limmon smiled tiredly at the older elf's teasing. "There has been such an increase in the shadow that the spiders have been multiplying like a mathematician on a sugar buzz. This sort of attack has become almost routine these days. I claim practice in beating your count, you have been gone long enough to have gotten rusty, though you fared well with your foes aswell."  
  
Raunion bowed his head and winked and Limmon began pulling arrow shafts from the dead creatures and slipped them back into his empty quivver.  
  
Raunion sheathed his own knives and went to the last spider he had killed and groaned as he pulled his blade from the things head. The blood had already begun to eat away at the blade and it was hott to the touch.  
  
"Oh for the love of Elbereth! This was my best sword," Raunion complained as parts of the metal began to chip away and fall sizzling to the ground.  
  
"See how lethal their very blood has become? You musn't let any of it touch you or it will burn away at your skin... you haven't any wounds have you?" Limmon suddenly thought to ask.  
  
Raunion checked himself but only found bruises where the first spider had pinned him down to the ground.  
  
"Nay, how are you?"  
  
Limmon shrugged, "I got a scratch on my arm but I think it was not deep enough to do harm."  
  
Raunion recognized that tone in the younger elf's voice and grabbed Limmons left arm that he held close to his chest.  
  
He pushed up the sleeve and saw a jagged tear going from elbow to shoulder that was dripping bright red blood. "_Ai! nad dithen_, I suppose, eh?"  
  
Limmon grimanced as the elder probed the cut with a finger and shrugged, "aye, _nad dithen_."  
  
Shaking his head Raunion went to his mount which had fared well itself in the short battle, two crushed spiders lay near its feet. He checked first that it had no wounds or spiders blood upon it, then rummaged though his saddlebag and found his pouch of healing stuffs.  
  
"Come here, child."  
  
Limmon glared at him but came over to where Raunion now crouched and pulled out a leather bag containing a paste that smelled like sage and athelas and a bundle of bandages.  
  
Raunion pushed the sleve away from the cut and began mopping up the blood, wiping it away to reveal the wound better before applying a scoop of the cold stuff onto Limmon's torn arm.  
  
"Ai Elbereth! What is in that stuff? Orc brew? Ai oi it stings!"  
  
Raunion ignored the indignant remarks and began wrapping the arm in a long white bandage, tieing the end tightly and patting his patient sharply on the back. "Quit complaining, elfling."  
  
Limmon muttered something that Raunion did not catch but could guess it wasn't anything polite and sighed.  
  
After putting away the healing bag and securing once more that his mount wasn't harmed, Raunion forced Limmon onto his horse and led it back to the path leading to the palace of Greenwood, or Mikwood, which ever it was now.  
  
"Raunion?"  
  
_"Man, Limmon?"  
_  
"Welcome home, _mellon nin."_

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"Gerich faer vara, Limmon!" - You have a firey spirit, Limmon!  
  
"Lasto lalaith nín!" - Listen to my laughter!  
  
"Mae carnen, little one, mae carnen" - Well done, little one, well done.  
  
"Suilad, hir nin. Melbenion i eneth nin. Man eneth lin?" - Greetings, my lord. My name is Melbenion. What is yours?  
  
"Gîl síla erin lû e-govaded vín, Melbenion. Raunion i eneth nin." - A star shines upon the hour of our meeting, Melbenion. My name is Raunion.  
  
"Avo visto!" - Do not stray!  
  
"Losto mae" - sleep well.  
  
"Mas bennich, Raunion?" - Where did you go?  
  
"Man?" - What?  
  
"Mas athradannech? Rhun? Gondor?"- Where did you travel? Rhun (east)? Gondor?  
  
"Hain dago!" - Kill them!  
  
"nad dithen." - just a little thing.

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Thank you for your reviews:

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**Lyn **- thanks. I know it's hard to read b/c my stupid computer won't let me save my stories to HTML anymore for some insane reason. And thanks very much for pointing out those errors, I lost my beta reader and my friends all think I'm crazy and won't read my LOTR stories. (grr) I'll try and fix them as soon as possible.  
  
**elvenswordsmith **- thank you.  
  
**Anonymous reviewer **- I know, I have to get my 'puter fixed so I can save in HTML. And thank you for the correction, I hate grammar in any language, Russian French German English and it is worse in Elvish. Le Hannon.  
  
So... _Na-den pedim ad. _


	3. Postit notes

Don't worry – I'm secretly fixing my stories from work (shhh, don't tell my boss)

Soon I shall have chapter three finished and posted and all in nice, lovely html format. (God bless the Western Producer and the micacles of the interntet.)

Anywhom… I might even have it done and posted by tonnight and re-worked Friday afternoon.

Toodles,

Silabrithil

PS: Exactly one month 'till graduation!!!!

Celebrate good times, come on! (hum hum hum hummmmm)


	4. Arrivals and Rememberances

Chapter Two:  
  
Silad was expecting them when they came, but he was surprized to see Limmon, not Raunion, sitting on the great charger. As they drew closer he could see the signs of battle on them and he drew in a stiff breath.  
  
Limmon was injured, it was obvious now why he was upon the horse, and by the smell of them they had had an encounter with spiders.  
  
Silad exhaled with a gratefull thanks to Manwe that the two elves had sent the precious little Melbennion away when they did, for surely the little one would not have survived a spider attack and most likely one of the two full grown elves would have been killed trying to protect him.  
  
The child had run upto the gates shouting 'my uncle is home, my uncle is home' at the top of his lungs. Silad had asked him where his uncle was and Melbennion told how he had tackled Limmon who was talking with a strange dark eyed elf that looked like his brother and that the stranger introduced himself as Raunion before Limmon sent him away to tell his mother.  
  
Silad, captain of the gate-guard and brother of Celairiel, called out a greeting to the two approaching elves and motioned for the gate to be opened.  
  
The golden gate had been made in long yenni past by the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain when they were still friendly, and were a constant source of awe and pride. The beautiful gates, which had been forged to resemble two trees in bloom with interlacing branches, only opens to those who are friends of the elves and of Mirkwood and were as silent as stone, never needing greaseing or oiling.  
  
The two rather worse-for-wear elves passed through the great gate entering the first cortyard of the city and hatled at the water trough where Raunion helped the wounded Limmon down as the horse drank deeply.  
  
"Limmon, had an accident with the spiders again, I see." Silad called down from the wall, "and I see you have brought along a friend."  
  
Raunion gazed with curiosity at the gate captain who jumped an alarming way down from the wall top and jogged over to where they stood.  
  
"Suilad hir nin Raunion. It has been a long time since you last were seen in these woods."  
  
Raunion bowed his head to the gate captain, "Mae govannen, captain. I am afraid you have the advantage over me."  
  
Limmon chuckled, "Ai, he is sharp is he not, Silad? My lord Raunion, may I introduce you to Captain Silad Tobadirion. Silad, this is your late brother- in-law's brother, lord Raunion Henvainion."  
  
Raunion and Silad shook hands earnestly in soldiers fashion, gripping one another's forearm.  
  
"So, we are kin, it seems," Raunion said slowly with a small smile.  
  
Silad, beeing much younger and far merrier than his newfound kinsman, grinned widely and gave Raunion a bearhug that threatened to break ribs and caused the recieving party to wince inwardly as bruised body parts began sending jolts up his spine in complaint.  
  
"So it would seem," Silad joked and let go of the hurting elf.  
  
There was a moment of sudden silence and akwardness.  
  
"Well," Silad broke the silence and stepped back, "I should return to my post and you two" he looked pointedly at Limmon, "should go to the medical wing and see the healers before you do anymore greeting. Le cenithon ned lû thent."  
  
With that the blonde elf turned and left the two to make their way to the healers' quarters.  
  
"I see they have not changed the location of the infirmary since I was last here," Raunion commented as they both headed off in the same direction, to his relief. It would have disheartened him if much had changed in his absence.  
  
Limmon only shrugged, "they are so much older than any of us that they would get lost if the locations were changed. I should recomend it to the prince. He'd find it very ammusing to annoy the healers - he looks for ways and oppourtunities to aggrivate them."  
  
"Then I see that Thranduil hasn't changed in the least bit since he was an elfling," Raunion laughed.  
  
Limmon halted and raised an eyebrow at the older elf, "I was speaking of prince Legolas. Thranduil has been King now for ages! Did you not know or only forget?"  
  
Raunion kicked himself for his forgetfullness, "ai oi, I only forgot."  
  
Limmon grinned and patted the troubled lord's shoulder, "it's okay, it's only old age and decrepitcy kicking in."  
  
"Oi oi oi, Lasto lalaith nín! Oi oi oi," Raunion shouted with a grin and smacked Limmon like a rude elfling who turned tail and ran to the healers, Raunion giving chase.  
  
"You'll ne're catch me, old one. I'm too fast and nible for you," Limmon shouted gleefully as he vaulted over a low bench, "You'll only wear yourself out!"  
  
Unfortunately Limmon wasn't as aware of his surroundings as Raunion was and, before the latter could shout a warning, ran straight into a pretty elleth that had turned round the corner into his path.  
  
SLAM!  
  
"Limmon!"  
  
Raunion dashed over to his prone friend's side and rolled him onto his back as the now disgruntled elleth began chideing them for being reckless and acting like elflings. Limmon burst into hysterical giggles when she picked up a head of lettus and began waving it at them in anger but was cut short by a stabbing pain in his arm and his giggle ended in a loud groan as he gripped the wound.  
  
"Raunion, my arm! Oh Eru, it hurts! Daro, hiril nin, daro!" Limmon cried as the alarmingly enraged elleth began pitching bruised tomatoes and broken carrots at them, "im naer, im naer! Goheno nin!"  
  
Raunion, split between anger and complete amusement, pulled the now tomatoe juice covered elf up off the ground and quickly steered him away from the fuming she-elf and ran the rest of the way to the infirmary.  
  
"Gweston," Limmon breathed once they stopped infront of the entry to the halls of healing, "nad dithen!"  
  
Raunion swatted his mumbling but happy friend, "you hurt your arm again. You're going to be in for it now. Who is chief healer? Still ol' Glaerdan or his brother Glawar?"  
  
Limmon had no time to answer as the doors were pulled open quickly and the two were drawn in and nearly dragged through the enterance and parlour to the chief healers' officer.  
  
Raunion was so startled he didn't even have time to see who it was that had greeted them and sooner than he thought possible they were seated in chairs infront of the tall and imposeing chief healer.  
  
"Well well well, look what we have here! Young Limmon and the long lost lord Raunion! Mae govannen," the healer grasped Raunion's hand and smiled warmly at him, "I am Caladaradol, I was only an elfling when you were last in this neck of the woods, hir nin. You may remember my father, Glawar?"  
  
Raunion remembered a sunny little boy with intelligent eyes following the healer Glawar around night and day in the healing halls, studying everything he saw with eyes eerily similar to his fathers'.  
  
He nodded and smiled, "yes, I remember you. You look almost exactly like your father! Speaking of which, how fares he?"  
  
Caladaradol paused before answering, "He is well, for all I know, my lord. He departed for the west along with my uncle and mother."  
  
Raunion bowed his head, "Oh, forgive me I had not heard. How long ago?"  
  
"They left with the Queen and prince Eregon after the spider raid three and a half yenni ago. The entire royal family was poisoned by the spiders - only the three youngest, Legolas, Rílaiss, and Eregon, survived of all the children, but the Queen had taken in much more poison and she was sent to the west and she took the youngest with her. I assume you heard naught of any of this?"  
  
Raunion shook his head, "nay, I heard none of it. I did not even realize that Thranduil was married."  
  
Caladaradol opened his mouth to say more when he suddenly seemed to remember why they had come.  
  
"Where and how badly are you injured? Spiders or orcs?"  
  
Raunion gestured that he was fine and pointed at Limmon, "it's not me, it's Limmon here who has the battle wounds. He was swiped by a spider's claw in the upper arm."  
  
Limmon pulled up his sleeve and extended his arm stiffly, his arm was red and swelling around Raunion's bandage. The young healer carefully unwrapped the material with approval but frowned as the wound was revealed. The paste Raunion had applied had kept the wound clean but the ragged edges around the torn skin had turned a deep purple and looked jelly-like. Limmon groaned and turned away in disgust.  
  
"Gweston! It smells like a skunk that was beaten with a rotting salmon, urgh, it's sickening," Limmon gagged and covered his nose.  
  
Both healer and Raunion leaned forewards, despite the terrible smell,to observe the wound.  
  
"How in Iluvatar's name could the spiders have become so venomnous, changed so much and multiplied so greatly in such a short time? Spider cuts used to take days if not weeks before they became this bad, and often were healed long before. This happened just under two hours ago," Raunion breathed.  
  
Both Limmon and Caladaradol raised their eyebrows and chuckled silently.  
  
"You forget, hir nin, that you left while I was still an elfling and in my life run so far there has been many yenni of change and darkness. This has been happening for a long time, even to the eyes of the immortal, yet this is the fastest I have seen the posion work. I will have to drain the wound and apply some healing compresses, and it looks like you will need stiches, mellon."  
  
Raunion stood as the healer pulled up his patient and pulled him over to an inner door to the healing rooms. "If you have no more need of me, young Caladaradol, I will depart and find my kin." He patted Limmon on the shoulder and smiled, "don't worry, young'un, I'll come visit you once you have been tended to."  
  
Limmon grinned and made to say something when he yelped in pain, Caladaradol had grabbed his wounded arm and proceeded to pull him into the healing rooms.  
  
"Le cenithon ned lû thent," Limmon called through the closing door and Raunion waved before the door was shut and he was alone.  
  
When he stepped back out onto the street he paused and smiled. The city was as beautiful and quiet as the time when he had first brought Ionvain here...  
  
"Ron, come on! We're going to be late! You and Berioron promiced to take me to the city today and the sun is almost up! Wake up!"  
  
Raunion groaned and pushed the little elfling off his bed and onto a pile of worn clothes.  
  
"Quiet, squirt! Wake us once the crock has crowed and no sooner," he shoved his head under the pillow .  
  
SPLASH!  
  
Raunion nearly screamed as a bucketfull of icecold water was dumped on his head.  
  
The cold, wet and furious elf jumped up to catch his little brat of a brother to find his elder brother holding an empty pail and grinning.  
  
"Morning sunshine! Oh good, you've already showered, now you get dried off and dressed and we can be gone in half and hour," Berioron grinned. "We wouldn't want to be late for our little brother's first trip to the city, eh?"  
  
Raunion grumbled something and Berioron literaly beamed, "I thought not. Chop chop!"  
  
The two smiling siblings giggled as their wet and angery brother pushed them off his flet to the common story of the boys' talan where they already had their gear packed and waiting.  
  
Drying off, Raunion pulled on dry hunting clothes and a long green cloak before combing and braiding his long orange brown hair.  
  
When he finaly jumped down to the common flet his brothers were gone.  
  
Raunion jumped down to the ground and walked down the lane to the stables - the horses were gone and one glance at a note sent him running madly back down the lane towards the city shouting for his troublesome brothers to stop.  
  
"Daro, si daro!"  
  
As he sped silently around the bend two grinning elves, two horses and one pony came into view and it seemed that all five began to laugh at the furious sprinting elf.  
  
"Ai, na vedui," Berioron laughed as his red-faced brother lept effortlessly on to the riderless horse.  
  
The little Ionvain giggled for half the journey to the hidden capital city of Mirkwood, and the second half was spent drifting off to sleep, pestering his brothers, and trying to make his pony gallop.  
  
Of course, the little thing would not allow that to happen and the elfling eventually gave up in frustration, taking then to mimicing the sounds of squirrels and birds.  
  
When they finaly arrived the little one was so excited and awestruck that all he could do was hop up and down and gaze around him with wide eyes.  
  
His older brothers liked him best like that.  
  
He had been so cute. 


	5. Sea of Bitterness

Chapter Three:  
  
"My lord, the trees speak of the return of one of your former lieutenants."  
  
Grand Duke Saercaeron glanced up at the elf wearing the dark red and black livery of his house. "Which one?"  
  
The elf bowed his head and answered slowly, "the lord Raunion, my Lord."  
  
Saercaeron smiled broadly, an evil spark flickered in his eyes.  
  
"Have him brought to me, now."  
  
The elf bowed low and backed out of the Grand Duke's office, managing to bypass all the little tables and sculptures strewn around the large chamber, and closed the doors firmly behind him.  
  
Saercaeron leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. 'So the little bastard has returned - I wonder if he thinks that I have forgotten the way he left? I will enjoy myself with this one, his brother died far to quickly for my liking. Far too soon.'  
  
Raunion had found all of his old haunts with little incident and was welcomed heartily at each place. He was just leaving his cousin's wine house when five tall elves in that ever-so familiar red and black appeared on either side of him and his cousin, who was taking him to his talan for a late dinner.  
  
"Lord Raunion - your presence is requested by the Grand Duke of Mirkwood. He would like to personally welcome your return to the realm," one of the guards bowed slightly, respectfully, but Raunion noted immediately that the other guards' hands were placed discreetly on their hilts and the lead guards' hand was drifting down to his own blade.  
  
"Ai, my cousin will indeed greet his lordship in all good time, but he is set to dine in my home tonight," Raunion's cousin cooly stepped between his kinsman and the guards. "He has just returned now and is in need of a rest after a skirmish with spiders."  
  
The guards, while not openly challenging them, drew closer and wraped their hands tightly around their blade hilts. Raunion would have none of this - both he and his cousin were unarmed, Raunion havin left his weapons in the healer's office.  
  
"No, cousin. I will accompany these fine elves to visit with the good Duke - you can arrange a nice family supper get-together for me. I shouldn't be long," Raunion lied, putting a conforting hand on his cousin's shoulder and pushing him gently out of the way. "I can hardly wait to see everyone."  
  
His cousin looked deeply into his eyes but Raunion shook his head slightly as the guards came forewards to 'guide' him to the Duke's chambers.  
  
"Le cenithon ned lû thent, gwanur," his cousin bowed his head and backed up as Raunion was escorted off.  
  
'I'm doomed,' was all that Raunion could think of as he was pulled into a shady glade of dark fir trees. He was pushed down the paths towards the large, looming cliff where the cavernous palace of Mirkwook was carved into the living stone.  
  
Most enter the caves through the front ways, where the sun breaks through the canopy and all is beautiful and splendid, but the Duke, now the Grand Duke, Saercaeron had no use for beauty and splendour.  
  
He left that to his cousin Thranduil and his people; Saercaeron prefered the dark and foreboding wall of solid rock to be the enterance to his portion of the caves and his secret prisons.  
  
Passing through the dark iron gates into the evil duke's lair was, to Raunion, so terrible a feeling that he nearly collapsed - especially since he knew he most likely wouldn't ever be exiting through them alive.  
  
'I wish I had seen more of my kin - I suppose I should have returned sooner. I might even would have seen Ionvain once more, but thats all ending soon, I suppose,' Rounion thought depressingly as he was taken through the familiar dark halls and damp passage ways. 'I wonder how he'll have me killed? Slow and painfully, most likely. I can't see him allowing me to die easily - no, it's more likely he'll leave me to fade away... like he had me do to Ionvain.'  
  
Raunion's throat became constricted with emotion and he felt a pull on his eyes thinking of his brother.  
  
He really hadn't wanted to follow the duke's orders - but who knows what would have happened if he had refused? Most likely they would all be dead - and any Noldor warrior would say that one casualty is better than two - but the chivalrious Silvan soldier would give his life for a brother or comrade.  
  
He sighed as they passed through numerous sets of heavy wooden doors, each closing and locking behind them in an ominous manner, but Raunion payed them no heed.  
  
'I should have refused - I should have said I'd rather die than kill my own kin, my own little brother. But I am weak and I said nothing. I feared more for my life and the life of sweet Orien than that of my Ionvain.'  
  
Such thoughts ran through his head even as they halted infront of a dark, blood red desk where the Duke Saercaeron sat looking his most fearfull.  
  
"Well, well - Lieutenant Raunion! How" the elf bared his teeth slightly and hissed, "nice of you to return. I suppose you'd like to reassume your commision?"  
  
Raunion flinched inwardly but appeared cool and rather bored to the guards.  
  
Blinking stupidly at Saercaeron, Raunion shrugged. "No, actually, I'd rather not, my lord."  
  
Saercaeron raised a dark eyebrow set above firey yellow eyes, "No? How now, Raunion?"  
  
"Well, my lord, in my travels I have given up violence and have dedicated myself to the preaching of the Valar's words to the Eldar, and since"  
  
Saercaeron knew sassyness and sarcasim when he heard it, but he thought it enormously funny and cut Raunion off with his laughter, his cold, callous, mocking laughter.  
  
"Preaching the words of the Valar! Ai oi, that is ammusing coming from a kinslayer, Raunion," the Duke's eyes now danced with glee at the sight of Raunion's pale face, "but of course - you must learn of how your dear brother survived your betrayal!"  
  
Raunion grew tense and could sence what was coming before Saercaeron motioned for the guards on either side of him to take him. The guards did just that and Raunion found himself being dragged, his booted feet digging down into the stone floor, fighting the whole way, towards the dreaded door that lead down into the evil elf's dungeons.  
  
The guard on Raunion's left, after recieving a kick in the shins that couldn't have felt great, let go of the arm he had hold of and punched the struggling captive in the gut - efficiantly knocking the wind out of the prisoner - before taking hold of his arm again and continuing a much easier journey down into the depth of Saercaeron's evility.  
  
'Well, thats all folks,' the captive would-be kinslayer resigned himself to death, 'too bad I didn't even get to see if Orien waited for me. She wouldn't have - I told her not to. I hope she didn't, my sweet Orien...' 


	6. A Hard Lesson For Celairrim

Chapter four:  
  
Celairrim, the cousin of Raunion, walked quickly towards the palace, praying that the person he sought would still be in the gilded halls.  
  
Celairrim was no fool, he had been Orpher's confidant during the siege of Baradur and had worked hard for the golden braids of rank in his hair and the knots of status on his shoulder. He knew as much of the truth about the Grand Duke as Raunion did - though not the full extent of his cousins involvement - and was sickened by the way Thranduil didn't even see the callous gleam in Saercaeron's eyes or the threat that the elf posed.  
  
Though, he supposed, Thranduil had his hands full enough with keeping the endless lists of Mirkwoods' enemies at bay and allies from becoming enemies. Elrond of Rivendell trying to be friendly didn't help either. Celairrim knew that Thranduil's greatest weakness was the refusing of aid from other realms, especially from the Noldor. Oropher had even mentioned on occasion to him how his son's pride might get in the way of his being King of Greenwood - that should ever the darkness deepen and threaten the woodland realm, he didn't know if his son would accept the help of the alliance.  
  
Oropher had been correct - Thranduil shunned any offers of aid, believeing that what he saw as charity to be concealed mockery at his inability to keep his realm safe and that accepting help would prove that he was weak and unworthy to rule. Celairrim pittied him, but at the moment he had no time to waist on his ruler.  
  
His cousin had been taken by the Duke and there were only two beings that could help him: Mithrandir, one of the few beings who struck fear into the twisted heart of Saercaeron; and the other was Princess Orien.  
  
Orien - the sister of Oropher and possibly the most beautiful Silvan elf on Arda - was both loved and feared by her great-nephew. Loved, for she was, as mentioned before, beautiful, and feared for she was both elven wise and as cunning as an Istar. Saercaeron had been longing after his kinswoman for many yenni, and Celairrim was disgusted by it.  
  
He knew that Orien would help him, of course, for while Saercaeron lusted for her - to her mollification - she and Raunion had courted in secret since they first met.  
  
'Yes,' he thought, 'the Princess Orien will be able to save my cousin.'  
  
Legolas sat in the library connected to his fathers' throne room, awaiting the bell that would summon him into the grand chamber where some boring pomp and cirumstance ceremony was going on.  
  
The eldest surviving son of the King hated these occasions. He had never had to suffer through these types of things before his brothers died - Malthenlas, Celebolor, and Nargwiror had been enough to fulfil the duller duties pressed upon the royal family.  
  
His Adarthel Orien sat near him reading a dusty book she had idly pulled off the shelf during the wait. Flipping through the pages full of, in her mind, quite useless information on the etiquette of the men of Dale, which was several thousand years out of date, the Princess felt - rather than heard - someone approachin quickly with important news for her.  
  
Startleing Legolas, she quickly raised from her seat and threw open the hall door where Celairrim was sprinting towards her.  
  
"My Lady! We must hurry, Saercaeron has him!"  
  
Legolas, who had followed his adarthel, stepped infront of her and blocked the running elfs enterance to the room. "What nonsence are you speaking of, Lord Celairrim? What is this?"  
  
Leaning heavily against the wall gaining his breath, Celairrim motioned that he would explain in a moment, but he was cut off as a bell rang loudly in the library. Legolas glared at the out of shape councilor and shook his head.  
  
"I have to go - Adarthel, remember that you must come the next time the bell rings," Legolas stepped back, still glaring, then turned to Orien. "Please don't forget again! Adar nearly throttled me last time when we forgot when to come out and messed up the ceremony. I'd really like to not have to sleep in the out posts again for another week."  
  
Orien patted her gwadorion's smooth cheek and smiled, "I'll not forget. Go, before you are late." And with that she shooed the prince away.  
  
Then she turned on Celairrim with a hostile gleam in her eyes, "what has Saercaeron, the bastard, done now?"  
  
Saercaeron was enjoying himself immensly.  
  
Not only had he finaly caught the traitor Raunion, but he had discovered the key to getting rid of Thranduil and his brats once and for all.  
  
'And I won't be trusting the spiders again, no matter how much more lethal their venom has become. They failed to kill all the children of my dear king-kinsman,' the Duke thought evily, smiling as the sound of a whip and agonized cries drifted up the stairwell into his office.  
  
'Thranduil will die, that is for certain. But Legolas - dear, unhappy Legolas - he will abdicate... yes! He will abdicate out of guilt - but what of the others? Eregon and Rilaiss... the girl will do no harm, she cannot take the thone, but the second youngest son may throw an orc into my plans. He will need to be gotten rid of, too. Yes. He will need to go - ah! I will have him sent to Imladris when the plot begins - as a means of keeping him out of danger - but he will be ambushed by ors in the mountains. No - they know that the orcs have kept away from the paths of late. Dwarves? No, though they hate them they would see no reason why the runts would kill an elf. Men. Yes - wild men live on the eastern hill of the mountains... but why would they kill an elf? They thought he was a wraith, and they deemed to...'  
  
His plots were interrupted at the abrupt entry of a guard.  
  
"What," Saercaeron growled, making the already deeply bowing guard flinch and stoop even lower, as though to avoid his lords' wrath.  
  
"My Duke, it is the Princess Orien! She comes with one of the former councilors of Oropher. She is in a stange state - she nearly froths at the mouth with fury. Should we let her in - she seems to be mad!"  
  
Saercaeron's eyes widened.  
  
What was the lovely lady Orien doing here when she is to be speaking at the graduation of the archers? And angered? He thought for a moment that she knew of Raunion but dismissed the thought quickly. What would she care about a simple soldier? What confused Saercaeron the most was that the guard said she was with a councilor of Oropher. Who?  
  
He motioned for the guard to raise then sighed when he realized that, since the red and black robed elf was still bowing deeply, he did not see.  
  
"Rise, son, and run down into the pits. Tell them to silence the traitor and to hold off the whiping for awhile - I don't think the lady will enjoy hearing his screams as much as I."  
  
In a blink of the eye the young guard was gone down the stairwell and the sounds, which had been oh so pleasing to the Duke, ended in a lull of silence, breeched only by the light rustling of chains and light footsteps ascending the stairs.  
  
The guard closed the heavy door after him as he withdrew from the dungeons and bowed low, one again, to his lord. The Duke sighed and motioned him away, calling out "Let my royal visitor in! Do not keep her waiting!"  
  
A tall, willowy elleth entered the room, brightening the sombre coloured chamber with the radiance of her light. The lady seemed to defy all rules about elves' hair being either straight or wavy and either black, red, blonde or silver, as hers was the colour of milk chocolate and an absolute mop of thousands of tiny but long pincurls. Her skin - while most ladies of the royal house like to stay a fair white pallour like Noldorian women - was the colour of Gondorian tea and as soft as the nose of a foal.  
  
Her eyes, which nearly hurt the evil Duke from their brightness and clarity, were a deep dazaling green with golden stripes running through them. It was her eyes that both drew and repelled Saercaeron from the gorgeous princess - for they were filled with both kindness and intelligence and there was a constant gleam in them. It was this gleam that frightened him now, for they were burning with intensity and smouldering with something that strongly resembled hatred.  
  
Saercaeron shuddered - the hatred was aimed at him and even he, murderer of innocents and master of puppets, felt the burn.  
  
He bowed from where he stood behind his polished desk.  
  
"Your most Royal Majesty - to what do I owe the honour of your presence, dear Princess Orien?"  
  
Orien ignored the silky greeting and held out her hand to be kissed - which was readily done by the foul Duke - before speaking a word.  
  
"Duke Saercaeron, I have recieved word that your men arrested one Raunion Henvainion. This good counsilor of my departed adar came to me in appeal of his arrest, stateing that his cousin, the said Raunion, has done no harm or foul. I must agree that is unlawful to hold one without making charges against his person, so I ask you if he has been charged and of what crime?"  
  
Celairrim inhaled deeply with approval - his dead King passed his diplomatic skills and eloquence not just to his heir but to his lovely daughter, aswell.  
  
'It's too bad, really, that she had not been born first,' Celairrim thought sadly, 'Oropher often lamented the point. She would have made a wonderful Queen - he was ready to rewrite the laws over inheritance of the crown so that she might have it, but then he fell...'  
  
Saercaeron gulped inwardly but to the two other elves he seemed unaffected by the words of the Princess.  
  
"My most beloved Princess Orien Oropherel, I am shocked that any elf would accuse me of such unlawfullness, and hurt that my own kin would think so of me! Of course I have reason for the aprehension of the rebel Raunion. Am I not Grand Duke, fourth in line to the throne of your most glorious and royal brother? Am I not bound by oaths to uphold the peace and safety of this realm?"  
  
Orien had to close her eyes to keep Saercaeron from seeing her roll them at his words. 'Has that stopped you before, vile worm? Did that stop you from killing my brethren and uncles,' the princess thought bitterly.  
  
"For what crime was my cousin arrested, Lord? He was walking with me to dine with my family when we were surrounded by armed elves of your guard and he was forcefully taken," Celairrim stepped forwards, his silver and green eyes flashing in his irritation. Never before had he really felt that diplomacy was taking too long and only making things worse. "When last I looked, anyone arrested must be read their charges at the time of their arrest. Nothing of the such happened, I stood beside him and heard all that was said."  
  
The Duke turned his cold gaze away from the lovely Orien and onto Celairrim. There was mockery in his glance and ammusement on his features.  
  
"Your kinsman was read the charges upon him long ago - he fled and now we do not have to read his charges again as we had done so the first time. But if you wish to know the charges they are these: plotting the assaination of members of the royal family and the attempted murder of his brother, Ionvain Henvainion."  
  
Both Orien and Celairrim's eyes widened in disbelief. Celairrim clenched his hand until the knuckles were ebony white and his jaw tightened.  
  
"You lie!"  
  
There was a desperate silence that stood the hairs on all three elves' necks. The two male elves glared with hatefilled eyes; Saercaeron's filled with icy slivers, Celairrim's alight with a flame brighter than that that brought Gondolin to ruin.  
  
"I do not, councilor. Your kinsman was involved in the deaths of the Princess Orien's brothers' deaths, and attempted to kill his own brother who had discovered his Raunion's involvement," Saercaeron hissed, advancing towards Celairrim, his eyes daring the furious elf to try something. "Raunion pinned his brother to a tree deep in the south where he thought none would find him again and left him for dead. There were witnesses, many witnesses."  
  
Celairrim snorted, "and let me guess, Duke, they are all dead or passed away into the west?"  
  
Saercaeron smiled evily, "why of course not! I could call three of them in now - they are awaiting outside the door!" Celairrim snarled and the Duke turned away from him, letting his gaze fall back upon that of the lovely Orien.  
  
"My lady - you needn't concern yourself anymore about the welfare of this elf's kinsman who not only tried to murder his own brother, but had a hand in the deaths of your brothers. Give my regards to your most royal brother, my liege, and my salutations to young Legolas," Saercaeron bowed, "I have not seen the young prince in a long while - he does not come often to visit me of late. I wonder why?"  
  
Orien would have protested but she was too stunned by the Dukes' accusations to act and also did not want to reveal her love for Raunion to the foul elf. She inclined her head to him and left the room, hateing each step she took, knowing it was taking her futher and further away from her beloved.  
  
When she had finaly left and Saercaeron assured that she would not hear, he fairly lept towards the silverhaired Celairrim, pulling an ornate dagger from his belt as he did so, but the elf was ready and kicked out at the leaping Duke with a booted foot.  
  
Saercaeron hissed in pain as he felt his arm twist away and the blade turn outwards, away from his foe. Celairrim was no fool - he knew that he was not a fighter and hadn't a chance against the Duke in a fury, but luckily for him he had planned ahead and pulled out a small dagger that he had hidden in his boot and rushed at Saercaeron. The foul elf turned and drove an elbow into the now armed Celairrim's gut and again into his nose - praying that he would catch the right spot and drive the elf's cartilage into his brain. Guessing the Duke's target, Celairrim ducked his head to the side, but caught the elbow in his temple, sending waves of pain through his head and momentarily stunning him.  
  
A moment was all Saercaeron needed to shout for help and dive for his lost blade.  
  
He reached it as Celarrim lunged towards him with his own dagger held aloft to drive down into Saercaeron's back, turned, and thrust his blade up into Celairrim's unprotected midriff, just as his guards ran into the room.  
  
A shout went out and before Celairrim had time to realize or understand what had happened, five arrows embedded themselves into his back. With a gasp he fell forwards onto Saercaeron, but he was dead before he hit the ground.  
  
With a disgusted grunt, Saercaeron pushed the corpes off of him and pulled himself up off the floor. Brushing the blood off his dagger onto his pants he sneared down at Celairrim's lifeless body.  
  
"Never leave your torso unprotected, dumb bastard," Saercaeron kicked the body with the toe of his boot and turned away and handed the blade to one of the many guards that had filled the room. "Get this clean and get that kedaver out of here. Take it down to the pit and feed it to Allagor's pet orc. It hasn't eaten in a few weeks - it will enjoy the meat."  
  
With that he stalked out of his office and down into the dungeons to watch the traitor Raunion's torture sessions. That would cheer him up, he decided.  
  
Thank-you everyone who has commented. Yes- I know - it was starting to get a little boring, so I decided to kill someone off. Oh well, Celairrim is in a different story that I am writing so you will get to know a little more about him later.  
  
Toodles, Silabrithil. 


	7. Unworthy Prince

Chapter five  
  
Legolas sulked on the gold and red velvet cusion as his adar ranted and raved over upholding the respect, the image, the reputation, and the duties of the royal house of Mirkwood.  
  
Orien hadn't shown up for the ceremony at all - forcing Legolas to fill in for her absence.  
  
And, of course, his adar said it was all his fault that he hadn't made sure that she would come. When the King discovered that Legolas had let in some old councilor of his fathers, he nearly blew a fuse.  
  
"You know how side-tracked she will get! Dammit, Legolas, she's only a woman! She doesn't understand these things! You need to keep her from getting sidetracked - she had a one way mind and is to dense to know when she's needed," Thranduil roared at his resentful son. "This is your fault and you must pay for it! Get out, get out and don't come back until the solstice - if you have learned your lesson by them. If not, don't come back! You are a failure and don't deserve those braids!"  
  
Legolas jumped to his feet, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.  
  
"And where would you have me go, Adar? To my mothers' family? To the outpoints? To the southern city?"  
  
Thranduil waved a hand and turned away from his son in disgust, "I care not, just get out of my sight, you pathetic excuse for a prince!"  
  
When Thranduil heard no sounds of movement behind him he spun on heel ready to shout, but his son was gone.  
  
Legolas, tears now running down his face unchecked, sprinted down the paths towards the only place he knew that he would be greeted with the closest thing to paternal love that he had known since the death of his brothers - Saercaeron's house.  
  
The guards reported that the prince was making tracks to his home and appeared very distraught.  
  
Saercaeron smiled lightly - the relaxing sounds of anguished screams filled his mind and he smiled widely. The prince was in trouble with the King again, and was finaly coming to his 'uncle Saer' for attention and pity.  
  
The Duke almost laughed. This gave him a new idea - something better than the one he'd had before.... Legolas ran to him for comforting, like a father. So he would play the part of a loving parent to the prince... yes, it was perfect!  
  
Saercaeron laughed.  
  
Everything was working in his favour - it seemed that the Valar were on his side.  
  
Yeah, I know it's short, but I need to set it up and have time to work on the hardcopy.  
  
toodles, Silabrithil 


	8. Limmon's Holiday Begins

Chapter Six

* * *

"What is wrong, little Greenleaf? You are distraught!"  
  
Legolas gratefully sank into his uncle Saer's welcomeing arms, pressing his tear streaked face into the soft fabric of the tunic Saercaeron wore. The Duke held back a grimance as he imagined the body fluids being rubbed onto his new shirt.  
  
'Indeed - the elfling is disgusting. Note to self - never have snotty nosed children,' he thought.  
  
"Uncle, my adar told me to leave and not return until solstice! What am I to do (sniff) now?" The prince cried into his 'uncles' chest, "where do I go?"  
  
Saercaeron replaced the satanic grin that automaticaly appeared on his face with one with a compassionate and understanding mask. "Oh, little Greenleaf! What has happened?"  
  
Legolas pulled away and wiped his dripping nose, something that Saercaeron thought shouldn't happen to elves, and sat down on one of the cusiony chairs placed around the spacious talan that was the Grand Duke's residence.  
  
"Adarthel missed the graduation ceremony because I let that old councilor Celairrim in to speak with her. Adar said that I should have known not to let her be distracted because she isn't intelligent and is easily side tracked. It was my fault and the ceremony was ruined!"  
  
Saercaeron shook his head. He crouched down infront of the chair Legolas sat sulking in and placed a comforting hand on the young elf's shoulder. "You needn't blame yourself - I am more to blame than you, Thranduilion. Celairrim carried a message from me to your adarthel, an urgent message for her to meet with me in my offices. And you really shouldn't listen to what your adar says about her," Saercaeron felt angry at Thranduil's words about his very intelligent sister. "I will tell you something that I am sure you have never heard before, but you must promice that you will never let anyone know that I have told you this."  
  
The last words made Legolas sit up strait with curiosity burning in his large, teary, blue eyes.  
  
"What is it, uncle?"  
  
Saercaeron - who knew as well as the late Celairrim had, that Oropher wanted to switch heirs - grinned and brought his head closer to the princes' ear.  
  
"She is far greater than your royal father, mayhaps she is even on the same level as the Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien, and your grandfather Oropher knew it. He wished to change the laws of heredity from the eldest child to that of the King's choosing. Oropher would have chosen your adarthel Orien to be Queen. Unfortunately he was killed, as you know, in the Great Battle. Your adar became king after him," Saercaeron looked for a way that he could make it sound like - to the young prince - that his father had actually killed Oropher to keep Orien from upsurping his inheritance but found no straws to pull at just yet. 'Later, later he will ask. He will grow suspicious... but will that make him wish that his aunt be ruler.... this is something I will have to smooth out. Orien, oh most beautiful wretch, is intelligent but not smart. I have a great plan....'  
  
While Saercaeron held out a lengthy inner dialogue, Legolas arose from his seat and looked around at the many trinkets and paintings placed around the talan. He paused infront of one that made him shivver - as it did to all who looked at it except Saercaeron himself - it was one the Duke had painted. Plumes of smoke rose high in the air as flames darted and danced around the great gates of Mirkwood, the shadows of spiders magnified upon the high stone walls, and three tattered and singed elves fired darts franticaly at some fell beast just past the edge of the painting.  
  
Legolas shook his head increadolusly - his uncle painted wonderfully but his topics were always so... morbid. All his pantings contained something to do with a great disaster that had happened to the first born. There was one depicting the burning of Gondolin and the death of Glorfindel, another showing the kinslaying and the burning of the stolen ships, and of course the one Legolas looked at now that told the story of the great spider raid and orc attack upon the Mirkwood capital and the deaths of his elder brothers. Malthenlas, Celebolor, and Nargwiror had fought to the death the attacking spiders, protecting his family and himself.  
  
Saercaeron knew that they hadn't been on the wall when they died, but he thought it looked more heroic to have them there rather than in the middle of the forest.  
  
But it did not matter.

* * *

Limmon was better now, or so the healers told him, so he knew he had to go find his friend Raunion. The errant elf had promised to come check up on him while he was healing. It had been over a week and still there was no word from Raunion.  
  
'Figures,' Limmon shook his head a grinned, 'He will have been greeted with banquets and family which would not let him depart too soon or without a good filling of wine. But still, he did promise.'  
  
With his arm bandaged and under strict orders to return every third day to have the wound checked and re-bandaged, Limmon was released from the healers halls. He reported immediatly to his commanding officer, but was told to take a holiday until he was fully healed. The last thing needed to be worried about was a wounded sentinel.  
  
So Limmon found himself with a great deal of spare time to get caught up on the happenings of the town, the court, and his own family. It seemed that in the time he had been on duty and in the infirmary, his sister had found a beau and they were courting one another regularily.  
  
"So, Laeron, you are a friend of Silad? How fares he since I last saw him?"  
  
Laeron, a guard of the gate and beau of Limmon's sister, shook his head sadly, "not well, Limmon. His entire family is distraught on the disappearance of two of their kin."  
  
Limmon cocked his head to the side, "really? I had not heard of this, which two are missing?"  
  
"Silad's father, Celairrim, has been missing and so is his sister's brother- in-law, who had only just returned to the kingdom a week ago."  
  
A curse flew out of Limmon's mouth before he could stop it, "gweston! That is Raunion! It was I that found him in the woods. He fought with me against the attacking spiders - that was how I was hurt. How long have they been lost?"  
  
"Raunion and Celairrim disappeared on the same day - it was the very day that your friend returned! None has heard from them since."  
  
Limmon groaned. This was terrible news - his friend must have taken flight for some reason, maybe out of grief, but that did not explain the dissapearance of Celairrim.  
  
While Limmon pondered what could possibly have happened, his family's subject of conversation moved to the prince Legolas moving out of the palace and in with his kinsman, the Grand Duke Saercaeron.

* * *

Celairrim, whom I have called Raunion's cousin, it not his cousin cousin, but a distant relative. Say - like a third or fouth cousin or second great uncle. Hence, Silad and Celairiel (Ionvain's wife) were already distant kin of the Henvainions.

* * *

And now for a limited time only, in reviews ask any questions about anything in this story and I will answer, and make any suggestions and I will incorperate them into the story! But I must warn you - I am leaving for the summer to cadet camp for 7 weeks so I won't be updating the story as often as usual.  
  
Thanks and toodles, Silabrithil.


	9. Fading Light

Chapter 7

A shadow moved, a chain whispered, a wound bled onto the rock floor.

Raunion felt pain, only pain. His mind drifted and his fea began to detach as he slowly faded into the halls of waiting.

Memories surfaced in his tormented mind, some good, some bad, but they all became the same as they became dull, far away, and dissolved into nothing.

An elfling trying to carry a large quiver full of arrows but managing to spill most of them onto the floor; a tall red haired elf picking up the small elfling and saying goodbye before leaving, never to return; a beautiful elleth in the moonlight; a battle field in the far east, the moans of the dying riseing and falling with the sounds of fire and clashing metal; an elf in the forest bound to a tree; a bright sword with 'buio uireb' carved into the blade; that same blade being driven into an ornate desk; a herd of mumakil stomping through a desert towards an inland sea; a tall white tower filled with men; dark mountains and hidden lairs of orcs and things much worse; a golden gate; the stars, a small elfling claiming to be Raunion's nephew...

Dark became the elf's thoughts - he no longer noticed the dripping of water on his forehead, he no longer strained to wet his cotton dry mouth and puffy lips, he no longer ducked the blows or counted the whip lashes that split his numb skin.

There was only one light left in his mind - Orien.

A door opened behind him - he no longer turned to see who it was now to torture him.

He only closed his eyes and let himself fall back into the dark waters and fading memories.

Beriorion died, Ionvain died, Celairrim died, and Raunion had no doubts that he would die too.

Orien - they had met not long after he returned from the southern province - she had been presiding over the graduation ceremonies. When it was Raunion's turn to bow before her and be given a silver feathered arrow he went forwards, bowing low, but as he rised he looked up and their eyes locked.

Both knew at that instant that they were meant to be together.

She handed him the arrow, their hands touched lightly and both let the moment linger, sparks racing from one hand to the other, before a discreet cough made them withdraw and Raunion bowed again.

They met occasionally, in secret, and both voulenteered to either go on a trip to the wall (for Orien) or relay messages to the palace (for Raunion.)

Love was sweet, but impossible for them.

Raunion, although the son of a lord and an accomplished archer, was young and out of favour with the court, unlike his brothers who were both movers and shakers in the doings of the palace.

Beriorion had been a close friend of the royal family, and Ionvain went through warrior training with the youngest son of Oropher.

When the court demanded all three brothers and their sister to be present, Raunion was starkly out of place in his archer's braids and slightly worn, brown and green robes, next to his well polished and fashionable siblings.

Orien loved him for his indifference to the pressures of the court, his calm features but bright twinkling eyes made him the apple of her eye.

Her brother, Oropher, often grumbled at the nerve this young elf had, attending court ceremonies in warrior robes and loosely braided hair. Orien would laugh and say only that some were not cut out for the courts.

But that light slowly dimmed in the captive's mind, pushed away and replaced with numb pain and silent screams.

Orien faded from his mind, and so began the fading of Raunion Henvainion.

* * *

Sorry it has taken awhile to update - I just came home from SCSTC HMCS Qu'Appelle... sigh. This was the last year for the mini-Q. We had a decommisioning ceremony - I bawled through most of it. (sniff)


	10. Orien

Orien waited in the sitting room for her nephew to finish his ranting about her insolence and Legolas' immaturity.

The King raved long into the night but Orien only nodded and occasionally would say, 'of course, Thranduil.' Finally the flow of foul words and bitterness slowed and Orien decided it was high time to take her leave of him.

The King had been thrown into another fit when a report came to him that ...

_I'm sorry, I have total writers block._

_Check in again later._

_Sorry._


End file.
